When I find my Peace of Mind
by Elvarein
Summary: Years after the war, the survivors pay their respects to the fallen in the Graveyard of the Heroes.It is the year A.C. 207...


When I Find My Peace of Mind

When I find my Peace of Mind

Written by [Elvarein][1]  
Proofreaders : Shawny Wong, Fatima, Cyberwolf  


Words in Italics are used to signify a person's thoughts.   
For example: _He must think me a lovesick girl_

If you see a line, that means a change of perspective (i.e. from Relena's Point of View to Heero's Point of View) or a jump to an event in a different time.   
The line looks like this (the one below): 

Authors' Notes: The main characters in Gundam Wing have very well developed and beautiful personalities. However, I believe that the depths of their characters are often not fully explored or delved into, with many viewpoints not attempting to see beyond the surface. In this fanfic, I will endeavour with an especial focus on Heero and Relena to discuss my views on the pilots characters. Also, many thanks to my proofreaders who have given me much feedback which has helped to craft this story.  


The sun was setting in the west and dusk was falling, casting its gentle cloak of silence and darkness over the land. A land which no longer showed the scars of war, a land that knew peace at last....... unlike its occupants. It is AC.207, and although memory had faded, it was not gone. People the world over still remembered the pain of caused by the war. The many graveyards erected for the fallen and that dotted the countryside bore mute testimony to that. 

In one particular graveyard, a figure stood alone and silent before a grave sheltered by a grove of willow trees and covered with the sky's tears. The figure was tall and slender, a woman just come into her own. She was dressed simply, in a long dark grey dress and a pair of white shoes, and wore no ornaments, save a gold ring topped by a clear azure crystal. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, just like that of a Faery princess whom knights lost their hearts to and though still youthful had wisdom, compassion and grief etched on it. She had eyes that were deep pools of blue, filled with gentleness and love. However in those eyes of midnight blue, there lingered a deep and abiding sorrow. Over it all though, there was a layer of serene timelessness, a complete acceptance of the world's imperfection and a strong love for its beauty.   
  
She had a sad, bittersweet expression on her face as she looked at the gravestone and so, did not notice the male figure approaching from behind. He was dressed in black priestly raiment, and wore a cross around his neck. He had a long braid of chestnut brown hair, which gave ample evidence of frequent grooming. He had a face that brought to mind the word mischief immediately, boyish and roguish with an infectious and perpetual smile. 

He crept up behind her on silent feet with the careless grace of a professional. He was almost upon her, when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out fondly. 

"Duo! Will you ever grow up?" The voice was warm and laughing and betrayed the caller's amusement and vibrancy. 

"Oh! Woe is me, can't a guy have some fun?" Duo sighed, and looking in the direction of the caller slapped his head theatrically. His eyes and face were overbrimming with laughter and mirth, for he was ever the eternal child and jester. 

However, although he usually carried that smile which was the essence of joy, he had another side to him, a side that was dark and sorrowful. His eyes and countenance also held a measure of grief which showed that he too was not left without scars from the war. For Duo had lost many people to the reaper's scythe while already orphaned in his youth. 

Solo and his gang, his erstwhile companions who he had worked with to survive on the merciless streets and who for a time where like brothers unto him. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen the first two people to touch his heart, give him hope and shelter not expecting anything and who loved him and cared for him. All of them cut like flowers before their time, his hopes, his life and joy all dashed to the ground and emptied. His eyes also contained the haunted look of one who had danced with and courted death; No man can come close to death without changing. Fortunately for him, someone loved him enough to accept him for what he was and to watch over him after the war, saving his soul. 

At the voice's call, the female figure had whirled around, slightly startled, but still unruffled and calm. Her actions were fluid and smooth, carrying the grace and regality of a princess. Upon seeing Duo and the caller she smiled, the sadness in her eyes and on her face momentarily dissipating, to be replaced by laughter and light. 

"Duo, Hilde! It's been too long since we last met. How is life in the church?" she asked laughing like a girl. "I still have not gotten used to the idea of Duo giving sermons in a cathedral." 

Hilde laughed as she walked up the path to the grave where Duo and the lady stood. Her eyes were sparkling with life and fun, although they too held the tinge of sorrow that the war had brought to all. Hilde was Duo's love and angel who had watched over and comforted him through his tormented dreams, healing and restoring his wounded mind and heart. She always had a kind word for him, for she had fallen for he who was Death's Messenger no longer. 

Smiling brightly and with a twinkle in her eye, she said, "You should come over someday and hear Duo preach. His sermons are very original and he always gets the whole congregation in stitches and the other chaplains' in fits." 

"Oi! They aren't that funny, and at least my sermons get the point across, unlike the other old fuddy duddies. Besides you love me for that, don't you?" asked Duo with puppy eyes.   
  
Hilde giggled as she said, "True, and he's soooooo much cuter than the others. In fact, the children in the congregation love him, and they like pulling his braid." 

Duo pouted and was about to reply when he was interrupted by a stern voice, "Stop pouting, are you a man or are you a girl?" 

The trio looked up, to see a Chinese male, who was looking disapprovingly at Duo, although a slight twinkle in his eye told them of his wry amusement. He was tall and slender, with a catlike and competent grace. His gaze was firm and strong, his features were strong, speaking of a will of iron beneath that slight and scholarly frame. 

His hair was raven black, and tied up with a neatness which hinted of orderly habits and he was wearing the preventers uniform. Next to him stood a female, similarly dressed, who was laughing out loud at the antics of the two. Her hair was brown and long, and her face filled with compassion and kindness. Overshadowing their faces though, was the shade of sorrow, gently mourning, ever present in the Graveyard of the Heroes. 

"Wufei! Never thought I would be glad to hear your voice again and Sally! You're looking good, " said Duo, laughing with abandon. "All we need now are for the other two to show up and we are all here." 

"Actually they were just behind us. They were delayed by the drinks they brought along," replied Sally who turned around and waved to the two couples making their way atop the hill where the grave stood alone in a grove of willows. 

"Indeed," said Wufei with a smile on his usually stern face. "It is rare that we have a chance to be together, especially with the weight of our duties. For is it not said that death is a lighter than a feather and duty heavier than a mountain?" 

"Heero thought of it that way during the war. At that time, nothing else mattered except for the mission," said the lady. She was smiling sadly, caught up in remembrance of a time which though past still caused a lot of pain. 

"Indeed," said a gentle and almost feminine voice in sorrowful tones. "But despite that, he always looked out for his comrades and the colonies, though that was all hidden under his mask of ice. For he truly was the dark champion, fighting for the peace and life of the colonies, and then later the whole world. He took the burden upon himself, a dread weight for such slender shoulders, and never did he for a moment give up or falter." 

The group on the hill turned, to see that the other two pilots had arrived with another female. Quatre, Trowa and Dorothy, the lady put names to those familiar faces. The surviving members were almost all there... a stab of pain filled her heart and tears almost sprang to her eyes, remembering the cold body in the grave which would never know what life with peace was like. She looked up towards the sky where the colonies were, thinking of her brother and his love, working hard to ensure the fragile peace of this age. She then breathed deeply and studied her dear friends. 

Quatre was garbed in a suit, and he had an aura of confidence and strength which was not there before. His beautiful eyes had not changed, for they were still filled with an abiding compassion and love for the world, although they were still clouded by the pain of his father's death which time had not yet healed. At the moment however, they were filled with concern for her; for her iron control had slipped for a moment, showing that wound had not yet fully healed. For she had lost the most to the war. The lady judging correctly smiled gently and reassuringly at him, easing his worry and lightening the mood. 

Dorothy had changed the most however, she reflected, for the face that used to be a mask of velvet lined with steel had become more open and gentle, having learnt the hardest lesson of all, acceptance and how to love. Her face was calm and serene, finally at peace with her father's death, and her cynical eyes held the faint light called Hope. There was a look of askance on her face, a question which Dorothy had once posed to her: How can you bear it? For although Dorothy seemed to be very strong and cold outwardly, she was still very much the maiden emotionally. She had just withdrawn into a shell of arrogance and cynicism to protect herself, and only now, was the more gentle side being coaxed out of the prison of its own device.  
  
Her eyes flickered to the last pilot, Trowa, the boy, nay the man, whom even the lions respected. He was quiet as usual, although his mask of indifference was not so pronounced. His hair was in its usual impossible position, defying all the laws of gravity, just like him, the acrobat whom fear could not touch. 

Like a flower blooming readily in the warmth and light of the sun, Trowa had opened up in response to the love and affection of his sister. His face was gentler now, filled with contentment with his job. A bright, fierce hope for a better future burned in his heart. Like the other pilots, his face reflected the burden the weight that the war and the deaths he had dealt caused, as well as the solitary life of an orphan, something that was shared by Duo and Heero... 

"Now that we are all here, lets pay our respects and go grab a bite together." Duo suggested, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that Quatre's last remark had made and interrupting the her thoughts. " 'Cause I'm hungry." 

"You are always hungry," remarked Trowa dryly. 

"How can you blame me? I'm a growing boy," Duo protested with such an artfully contrived face that everyone burst out laughing. 

The group then moved to pay their respects to the deceased, each of them laying an item in front of the grave, before they observed a moment of silence with their heads bowed and uncovered. In the midst of the silence, they remembered the past, and took strength from their memories of the one who lay in the grave. Each of them said things in their hearts to this knight and prince who had never faltered even at the end, doing what he thought was right and always fighting for those he loved. 

"Mama!" shouted a young vibrant voice, followed by the pitter-patter of feet. The group looked up in surprise, for the voice invoked a memory in all of them. 

"That sounded like a young version of Heero..." Duo began, getting ready to make a quip. 

The lady however smiled, a light filling her eyes. She spun around and saw what she expected, a young boy with prussian blue eyes and brown hair running towards her. She held her hands laughing like a girl and the boy jumped into her embrace. The boy was followed by a young woman with flaming red hair, laughing as she try to catch up with the boy, and behind them, at a more stately pace was Lady Anne (Une) who was smiling at their joy. 

"Is that your son Relena?" Dorothy asked the female figure in surprise. "He has grown so much like his father." 

The boy looked around and seeing the unfamiliar faces frowned slightly, looking at them. The group was struck once more with his similarity to Heero. He asked his mother, "Who are these people mum?" 

Tears filled the eyes of the pilots, he was just like how Heero might have been when young, the same frown, the same smile without the weight of the universe on his shoulders and death looking out of his eyes. He was so similar and dissimilar at the same time. There was the same iron will behind the eyes but without the apathy. He looked serious like Heero but had innocence, trust and a great capacity for love in those eyes. 

The girl with the flaming hair answered him. "Do not be afraid, they are your uncles and they love you like they loved your father. The one with sandy blonde hair is Uncle Quatre, and the one with black hair is..." 

She introduced them to little Heero Yuy, named for his illustrious father, while the remaining pilots smiled at him gently. Trowa's eyes suddenly widened, he had been looking at the girl, for she was familiar to him. 

"Mariemeia, is that you?" 

She turned and smiled at him. "... and that is Uncle Trowa, ringmaster of a circus. Yes, I am Mariemeia." 

The introductions done, little Heero smiled at the "uncles", Heero's brothers in battle, bound by a similar course and objective, comrades in a war in which even their home had betrayed them. The group smiled back uncertainly, for they were still perturbed by the changes the years had wrought in Relena's son who had been a baby when they last saw him. 

Dorothy then interrupted the scene, pointing out in quiet tones that it was getting late, and that they should hurry if they did not want to miss their state dinner in which they were the guests of honour. For this dinner was held on this day annually, in memory of the deaths caused by the war and in remembrance of one of the colony's greatest sons who gave his life up so that the world could live and know peace. The others agreed, sensing Relena's need to be alone with her son and her husband's grave. Then, with solemn mien, they started towards the entrance of the graveyard, leaving Relena, Lady Anne and their charges behind. 

Relena looked at the grave once more, remembering in her mind's eyes how Heero looked, then placed her gift in front of the grave before she stood. A single tear slid down her face, sparkling and glistening, more precious than any jewel and splashed onto the tombstone. Then as she turned to leave, she whispered the following words, "Until next time Heero." 

She strode away, a serene smile on her face as she held her son close. 

Night had fallen, and the sun was no longer in the sky, the moon was out, smiling benignly down on the gravestone, illuminating the water droplets on the tombstone, making them shine like molten silver. The stars were also out, glittering like jewels in the night sky, endlessly treading the steps of their age old celestial dance. A cool night breeze blew through the willow grove, causing the branches to sway and rustle. There was a sighing sound and a soft whisper which seemed to say the age old words, " I love you." In her car, Relena's head rose and she smiled.   
  
These are the words carved onto the Tombstone: 

He is not dead, just asleep.   
At last able to put down his arms,   
At last able to rest without pain,   
The True and Weary Knight.   
Heero Yuy 

_I have always loved you._   


_Finis_

   [1]: cg6684@yahoo.com



End file.
